AN: (Barely avoids being hit with a rotten tomato) Ha! YOU MISS- (Gets hit with Mactavish's hardcover book of romeo and Juliet) I'm so sorry it took me this long to update. I know I went to the beach for a week with no wifi but that was two weeks ago or something. I'm sorry that it took so long. Anyways, I actually added what they say at the beginning of each level to this chapter just for the heck of it. I don't know if I'm going to do that for every chapter or not but I felt like doing it for this one so Yeah. Also, I still need to know if you guys want me to have the additional non-story line chapter in this story or just do it as a separate story altogether. Next chapter will be hornet's nest which I haven't even started, but if I remember right that level wasn't incredibly long either so check up on that. Another thing, Check out my story Merry Christmas Ghost which is not connected to this story and just a little thing my brain threw up. Hmmm, what else? I know I wanted to say something else about the story but can't remember. Shit. Oh well, it can't be that important if I forgot right? Oh, also, almost everything the team says in this chapter is exactly what they say in the mission take down. Anyways, time for reviewers who have hopefully not abandoned me. :(
Micheal: Thanks, I did work pretty hard on Allen's back story and I promise I'll try to update sooner.
Leggo 16: I go to public school. I know everything there is know that parents don't want me know. XD. Like I said I'm incredibly sorry for the late update and crap. I'll definitely try harder to update!
Wildcat717: Thank you, I'm surprised someone would actually use the word awesome to describe this sucky story of mine.
Anonymous person: Yeah, I'd certainly hope none of the 141 members are afraid of heights. I don't think that's actually possible that any 141 member can be afraid of heights cuz if you think about it, don't they ride helicopters and crap everyday. Plus in the mission "Soap on a rope" where you invade the gulag for prisoner 627, Roach and Mactavish sit on the teeny tiny edge of the helicopter and snipe people. Thank you for the compliment even though I don't know who you are. :D
7red-charms: Honestly, your name makes me think of lucky charms, the cereal. Anyways, I'm glad you like my story and actually think it's funny and realistic. I'm surprised you think either because you know me, my humor is weird and the fact that you think it has realism in it blows my mind. Thanks so much!
Okay, that's all for new reviewers. Thank you all so much for reviewing and reading and everything else! You all get a cookie or some shit! lol.
Chapter 4
"Takedown"
The Russians ain't gonna let this massacre go answered. This is gonna get bloody-Ghost
Too late, Mate. Now, in the eyes of the world, they're the victims. No ones gonna say a word when the Russians club every American they can reach- Mactavish
Makarov was one move ahead. Now he's left thousands of bodies at the feet of an American- Shepherd
We're the only ones who knew it was Makarov's op- Mactavish
Our credibility died with Allen. We need proof- Kyrie
Follow the shell. Alejandro Rojas- Shepherd
Never heard of him, Sir- Mactavish
You know him as Alex the Red. He supplied the assault- Shepherd
One bullet to unleash the fury of a whole nation. This means…- Mactavish
He's our ticket to Makarov- Kyrie
Kyrie looked down at the photo, the caption read "Alex the Red". Alex the Red was the one who supplied the assault at the airport. He supplied the bullet that killed Allen.
She couldn't believe that the name had gone in one ear and out the other, even though it was such a long time ago, she still remembered the boy with those icy blue eyes.
In a way, it was her fault he was dead. She was the one who told him to run away and be free from his horrid family, which probably lead to this.
She glanced up to see Roach completely focused on the van ahead of them, hands gripping the side of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white.
She made sure to sneak a peak at Mactavish and make sure he wasn't looking, only for him to be staring intently at the van as well, before she gently tapped Roach's hand twice from her position from the backseat.
His eyes darted back towards her and his hands immediately flew towards his lap. So much for encouragement.
Ok, she admits, it was probably her fault the awkwardness in the small vehicle was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Oh, who the Hell is she kidding, it's completely her fault.
Stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel, Kyrie grabbed another smaller towel and begun to dry her hair. Looking around the small hotel bathroom she saw the typical stuff; complimentary bottle of shampoo in this not more than a five inch long bottle, conditioner (same as the shampoo, small and almost worthless after one use), toilet, shower, sink, lady products under the sink that WERE NOT hers. You know, the usual.
The 141 was currently stationed in a hotel near the Favelas, waiting for Rojas to make his move, whatever it might be.
Mactavish, Roach, and herself had arrived here via helicopter immediately after the operation at the snowy Russian base. That really freaked the locals out so much that they had offered to let them stay for free at their best hotel as long as they promised to keep the huge, flying, metal, man eating fly with the huge wings away from their crops.
She had tried to explain what it really was to the kids since they seemed scared out of their pants, but alas, she ended up scaring them for life with a story of how some one accidentally fell out and went splat.
Its things like that that stopped Kyrie from becoming a babysitter when she was younger.
Ruffling her hair with the towel one last time and making sure the towel around her body was secure, she threw the small towel in the petite hamper in the corner of the room and opened the door to the shared room.
For a few extremely awkward moments, nobody dared to breath, until Mactavish broke the silence, "You've got an hour to get ready; Rojas is making his move."
Kyrie still stood eerily still, face tinged a slight pink, facing the entire 141 team. Kyrie snapped out of her trance, still slightly amused at the pink that stained some peoples cheeks, "Got it. Now…unless you intend to pay me to strip, I suggest you get out of my room."
Okay, even Mactavish felt the awkwardness with that comment. He decided to it brush away when Kyrie first appeared out of the shower but this time around he found that no matter how hard he tried to brush, push, hit, or shove, it simply would not go away.
Apparently, Ghost didn't seem to feel it because he jumped of the bed with a boing and walked out the door, stating a simple, "Cool, see you then," before exiting the small room.
Everyone hastily left, following after the lieutenant. Her glance never left the door till it was shut. When she turned around to walk over to her small suitcase, she saw Roach's distinct muscular form sitting on top of the bed, messing around with a rubix cube. Huh, she didn't take him to be the puzzle solver type but, back to the matter at hand.
She cleared her throat in obvious annoyance, wanting him to leave so she could change and do her hair. He looked up for a brief second before returning his eyes to the multi-colored cube, twisting and turning it, trying to get all the sides to match.
Okay, now she was pissed. Her hair, even though it was partially dry, was still cold against the base of her upper back and neck. She wanted to be in warm clothes, not a soaking wet towel with the air conditioner blowing gently on her bare arms, legs, and face, making her shiver.
"Can you leave so I can change," Kyrie finally asked, finally getting the nerves to speak up, "This is my room."
"It's our room, in case you've forgotten."
"Chemo left."
"So…"
"Pfft, fine," Kyrie finally said, fed up with this. Then, something finally clicked in her mind. He wasn't trying to sneak a peak at her naked or anything perverted, he was just hassling her. Making fun of her, even, for what happened earlier; he saw her reaction and guessed that'd this be a really fun and rewarding way of pissing her off. She hates to say it, but it was working.
A light bulb went off in her head as she smiled evilly, turning around to walk to her dresser quickly before he could catch the grin.
The dresser was conveniently placed in the middle of the two twin sized mattresses so she could easily achieve her quest of revenge.
Hastily grabbing her stuff from the drawer and laying it out on her bed she drops the towel and begins to change.
Roach suddenly laughs which surprises her but continues on messing with the zipper on her dark wash jean shorts she had slipped on not ten seconds before.
"What, crazy?"
"I knew you wouldn't do it," Roach says cheekily in response.
"Do what," Kyrie pressed, turning around and faking curiosity. "Cha- Holy- What the Hell!"
Roach was so surprised from what he saw when he turned around he actually fell off the bed, banging his head on the hard wood floors below.
Kyrie, generally concerned because she heard something make a sickening crack on the ground, jumped over the bed and kneeled down over Roach, assaulting him with questions.
"Are you okay? Should I get Mactavish?"
Roach suddenly scooted backwards, using his feet to get as much distance from Kyrie as possible, especially in her current clothes.
She wore short, cut off shorts; dark wash with a pure white skull with a pink polka-dotted black bow on top was on the pocket. She also sported a camouflage bra and a stomach models would kill for.
As soon as she saw the absolutely stunned yet hilarious face that adorned his face she burst into laughter.
"That'll teach you for trying to piss me off," Kyrie said, still laughing as she tapped his mouth close, "Careful, bugs can fly in; that'd be gross."
"Ghost, the plates are a match," Mactavish said into the earpiece calmly.
Mactavish's voice ripped Kyrie out of her thoughts and back into reality. The one where she'd get revenge on Makarov for everyone he's killed; including Allen.
"Copy," came Ghost's reply, "Any sign of Rojas's right hand man?"
"Negative," Mactavish responded back coolly, "We've stopped twice already; no sign of him."
Kyrie and Roach's eyes were fixated on the van when it suddenly pulled to a stop in front of a building. A man briskly walked out, looking almost worried.
"Wait," Kyrie started; only to have Mactavish finish the sentence for her.
"They stopped again; stand by."
"We have a positive I.D," Roach said, speaking up for the first time in nearly an hour.
"Whoever these guys are, they're not happy to see him," Kyrie commented; hand on her gun, just in case. The face of the men she was seeing were not ones of mutual trust but rather faces of anger; as in, if you take one step closer I'll make you look like Swiss cheese with a coating of ketchup on top.
Shots rang in the air before Roach's or Kyrie's minds could understand what had happened, Mactavish shouted, "Ghost! We have a situation here," one minute and then, "Get down! Get down," the next.
Luckily, there bodies seemed to like the idea of not being shot so they ducked like they were told to.
"He's getting away," Mactavish bellowed, "C'mon Roach, Kyrie, let's go, let's go!"
Jumping out of the car and slamming the doors behind them, they started running after Mactavish, who is still yelling into his earpiece.
"Ghost, the drivers dead! We're on foot; Meet us in the hotel Rio and cut him off if you can!"
"Roger! I'm on my way!"
Running along the streets was like a carnival when everyone figured out that the skeletons in the haunted house were real and were put there by the creepy clown with a "Fake" knife. Things were magically catching on fire, people screamed bloody murder, and you could hear the beeping of car alarms and horns.
Kyrie would have ran into a local if he hadn't seen her gun and run away screaming something she couldn't understand. It sounded like bitch but she couldn't really tell with all the screaming and the mayhem around her.
"He went into the alley," Mactavish barked.
"Non-lethal take downs only; we need him alive!"
The two sergeants would have jumped thirty feet in the air if they weren't busy at the moment. Neither of them had heard Ghost join the small formation they had going. He really was like a ghost sometimes.
Somehow, Kyrie had pulled ahead of the group, being leaner and faster then the muscled 141 members behind her; she reached the mouth of the alleyway first. She saw Rojas's right hand man and Mactavish gave the order, "Kyrie, take the shot; go for his leg!"
Raising her ACR and quickly snap aiming to his legs, she shot and hit the target dead on.
"He's down."
Smiling, she slowed down, letting the two strongest men, Ghost and Mactavish, handle him. Kyrie doubted he would put up a struggle but she wasn't in the mood to have a fist fight.
"Damn, you're fast."
Kyrie turned to be greeted by Roach's mild breathing form, his breathing already returning to normal.
Kyrie, however, could barely hear her own breaths. They had just gotten quicker, not heavier. That meant she was no where near her limit of speed or stamina. Running away from gangs, thugs, and the cops when she was younger had probably helped her today, no doubt about that.
"Yeah, no wonder she beat Shepard's record at the pit," Meat said, coming up from behind them.
"Hey you nancies! You wanna help us with this guy!"
The small team of soldiers turned around to the man to be struggling against the Captain and the Lieutenant. Every time they had actually managed to get him somewhat sitting in the chair, Mactavish would try to get the hand restraint on him, while he furiously kicked and attempted to punch the life out of Ghost.
Roach watched in interest as Kyrie walked up to the small storage like room and hopped up the two foot high wall and strolled right up to the struggling man.
She lifted her leg rather high, bending it, and suddenly forced the man down on the chair with her leg, her foot pressed against the man's lower chest.
His arms were still flailing about though, looking for punches, and Kyrie, getting frustrated, yelled out, "If you don't stop flailing your arms around like a drunken octopus; I swear to God I will break your ribs!"
Her foot was still pressed against his ribs as she pushed a little harder. Obviously not taking kindly to the threat or the insult, his punches began to search for the brunette. One finally landing on her shin, a bruise already beginning to form, Kyrie was fed up and brought back her foot, only to slam it back down on his ribs. Hard.
They all heard the sickening cracks.
Having the breath knocked out him completely, he stopped flailing his arms for a second, enough time for the two superiors to lock up his arms.
Roach noticed how the man's lips were pursed, kind of like he was going to spit, he was about to call out a warning to Kyrie when he spit blood and saliva up at her.
She didn't even act like anything had happened. Calmly wiping her hand across the blood on her face until she was sure it was gone, she brought her hand down to look at it. It was a slimy red and just when Roach thought she was going to pull out a microscope to examine it more closely, she flicked her wrist and another snap was heard.
If they hadn't been looking at her hand, they would have missed it. All they would have saw was Rojas's buddy's head fly back and back again like a punching bag and all there would be to see was that he had a bloody nose.
She had clenched her hand, punched him, and unclenched her hand so rapidly; all they saw was a flick of the hand.
"Change of plans," Mactavish announced, breaking the silence, "Kyrie, you stay here; help us with him." Kyrie couldn't have stopped the slasher smile even if she wanted to; which she didn't.
Finally turning to the shocked team; or what was left of it, three men to be exact, Mactavish announced the plan, "Roach, this'll take awhile."
"Or not long at all," Kyrie murmured; her victim's eyes lighting up with panic as she said this.
Mactavish gave her the death glare but otherwise continued talking, "Take Meat and Royce up to the Favelas and see if you can find any trace of Rojas."
Grabbing the handle to close the door, Mactavish gave a nod of good luck as Kyrie smiled cheekily and waved.
Roach distinctively heard Ghost ask if Kyrie knew anything about torture over the sound of electrical energy.
"Oh yeah," She said, turning to grin at her victim, showing all of her teeth, "I took a class on it in high school."
Even though she was joking, Roach could still see the extreme raw terror in her prey's eyes.
The Favelas were a short distance from what Roach was sure was going to be that man's grave. He took the small steps up to the Favelas two at a time, barely hearing Royce say, "Remember, there are civilians in the Favelas; watch your fire."
The Favelas were obviously for the poorest of the poor. There was no real pavement for the passages that snaked around the Favelas to be called actual sidewalks and the houses roofs were mostly made up of sheets of scrap metal. Below them were two car frames; that's right, not a car but a car frame, black and charred.
All of the small and miniature buildings that made up the Favelas could not really be called houses; they were more like market stands but a little bit larger. As mentioned before there was no pavement, no roads, no houses, and no places of business. There was a lot of filth and people though.
"Meat, get these civvies outta here," Royce commanded.
"Roger," Meat said, jumping down from the ledge. Raising his gun in the air and firing a few bullets and screaming something in their native language made the civilians clear out, shrieking.
Shots rang out through the air fast as lightning, Roach felt ones air current literally blow against his ear. If that bullet had been an inch more to the left, he could've been a pirate. Ah, life's greatest disappointments.
The natural reaction to look around and see where the bullets came from almost overtook Roach but, he shoved it down and dived bombed for cover in a nearby red hut, knowing if he didn't the next shot wouldn't miss.
His head might pop off like a dandelion; can't have that now can we?
"I'm with you Roach; Watch the rooftops!"
So, Meat was following him. Where's Royce?
Roach, knowing that going out in the open would be suicide, took out his shotgun. If he was going to run in the huts and the winding alleyways surrounding them he better have a weapon for close range combat.
Taking a vast gulp of air, the sea green eyed sergeant half-sprinted half jumped out of the hut. Seeing a tango to his left trying to bash his skull in, he quickly turned the shotgun and pulled the trigger to be greeted by the recognizable and welcome sound of the lead making contact. The traditional moan of agony followed shortly after the somewhat splashy noise of the bullet coming in contact with the membrane.
Too soon for Roach's comfort another three tangos emerged out of an emerald, boarded up hut, breaking through the door.
One had a shotgun.
Shit.
Barely avoiding the shotgun's blast radius, Roach rolled into the next hut over and peeked around the corner just in time to see a muzzle flash.
Throwing a flash bang, Roach watched as it hit the open door and bounced near the militia's hut. Nice.
"Gahhh!"
"Roach!"
Double shit.
The flashbang must've hit Meat too. Roach, being he hero that he was, skidded out of the hut to take down the tangos, only to discover that Meat had already taken them down.
"You're lucky I wasn't as close as them to that flashbang. Thanks for the temporary blindness by the way."
Sighing in relief, Roach trudged onwards. Shooting, stabbing, and chop-blocking anyone who got in the way in the small and now blood covered alleyways.
Thinking about how small this place was got Roach to remember that Mactavish had shown them a map of the Favelas not three hours ago.
Roach's short cut cropped brown hair was getting a little long; Roach noticed this as he looked down to memorize the map that Mactavish had laid out minutes ago.
Green eyes scanning over the page, looking for any specific landmarks and just getting a basic layout imprinted into his brain, he didn't hear a door open and shut.
"Watcha guys looking at?"
Almost jumping, Roach turned to look at Kyrie.
"Map," He said, looking her over. She didn't have any of her gear on yet which was no surprise; they still had about another forty minutes till they actually had to be Oscar Mike.
Kyrie's style was a pretty weird one when she wasn't in her gear.
She currently wore one of those tops that girls wear, that has one sleeve normal and then another across her arm like a band; it was also only as long as her stomach. It was black with a multi-colored bird of some sorts made completely out of hands. Roach could also tell that she wore a simple neon green tank underneath it since green seemed to be the most used color in her shirt.
Simple black denim shorts with a green star on the pocket were pretty effortless.
Roach didn't see the point of wearing much clothes underneath the cotton shirt and pants, plus the bullet proof vest and everything else, but whatever.
Strolling over to a small table in the corner where Ghost and Mactavish were sitting and reviewing the files over and over again, Kyrie looked as to have asked Mactavish something. He nodded and pointing to a drawer in one of the bureaus.
Walking over and yanking the drawer open, Kyrie pulled out a pencil and a thin piece of paper.
Coming over by the map she starts drawing an outline of the map, then the big buildings, then the smaller ones, and lastly the paths in between and coloring them in. The team watches in wonder as she begins to trace her finger over multiple routes and turns. Finally she starts erasing paths until there are only four left.
"Those," Kyrie states, "are our best chances of getting through if we are ambushed or anything combat related. Follow those and it'll be much easier."
"What the, how-," Most of the team stutters.
Ghost walks over and glances down at the map, studying it, "She's right. Those pathways seem to be the smallest and the most surrounded by buildings; which means many places to take cover."
The rest of the team looked astounded. Roach looked at her in modest disbelief, "Okay, did they train you somewhere or something?"
She rolled her eyes and then pointed to the routes she mapped out, "No. I just compared all the routes to see which ones we could have advantages in while in combat. It doesn't take a genius to figure out these things, Roach. What do you think military strategists do? Sit on there asses and eat donuts like some overweight mall cop?"
Mactavish snickered at the teams misfortune of being the subjects of Kyrie's quick, witty, and sarcastic remarks, he had been in the spotlight and never wanted to go back. That was one thing about Kyrie; she could talk her way out of anything. Hell, she could get anything she wanted just by saying the simplest of things that take T.V show writers hours to come up with.
When she was in danger, Mactavish got the impression that deep down she was scared but, had somehow shoved the feeling down and duct taped it there.
"What are you snickering about over there, Captain?"
Remember the map, Roach jumped forward for yet another knife in the throat for an unlucky sod that happened to be in his way.
Completely out of the blue, Roach heard a stifled moan of pain.
"Roach, I've been hit!"
"Meat is down! I repeat, Meat is down!"
Impossible. He was following me the whole time.
Roach spun around like one of those tea cups in Disney world, looking for Meat.
No Meat.
Where'd the hell he go?
"I'm down, I'm down! Keep going Roach, we're as good as dead!"
Royce.
Ice water flowed into his veins freely, giving him a chill he had never experienced before. It was so cold and eerie. He was alone now.
Fire soon replaced the ice, chasing it away like a witch hunt; adrenalin backing it up.
If you thought Roach was deadly when he was calm, you should see him pissed.
He didn't miss a single shot, once, on his way to the markets.
Finally getting out of the lower levels of the Favelas, Roach took a moment to catch his breath. This wasn't supposed to happen. Meat and Royce couldn't be dead, could they?
The hyper active idiots who loosened the tension at the base could not simply be gone.
It was funny, in a weird, sick, and twisted way but it was kind of ironic, the way soldiers go into battle and kill and never think anything of death and then, when they finally die, they never see it coming. They never took the time to think about what happens once you're actually dead.
What happens?
Where do you go?
Is there actually a heaven?
And what about Hell?
What if everything they said in any religion was fictional, imaginary, and pretended. What if there was no God, no Buddha, no anybody.
Maybe there was no being unlike all others, no one divine and everlasting. Maybe there was no person that was a pristine and prominent instrument in the overarching order of humanity; no person's breaths or bare hands that conducted a symphony for humanity to listen to; drawing back the curtain to life and making an elaborate curtain call of death.
Perhaps no one watched and guided the golden dances of the soul; maybe no one guarded the doorway to another place because there was never one to begin with.
Maybe no one dictated the way of the world like the rest of the world thought someone did.
It was probably humanity that chose which direction the world went; left, right, straight, down, let's spin in circles. Too many people tried to chose a path for the world to follow so people grab a corner and begin to tug which way they want to go. Left, right, up, down, southwest, northeast, I'm good right here thank you.
And just like children fighting over a stuffed animal, the threads begin rip out one by one until the toy breaks, and the children start to cry. It wouldn't be a much different scenario if they world was in pieces with its stuffing coming out, would it?
Shaking away his thoughts, Roach continues. He couldn't be distracted at a time like this.
Breaking Roach's thought web with a hammer, Mactavish speaks to him through his ear piece, "Roach, we've got Rojas's location. He's headed west along the upper levels of the Favelas."
"We'll cut back on our side," Kyrie cut in.
"Keep going, cut him off on top," Mactavish says, Roach can almost see the glare that he has on his face, "No time for back-up, you'll have to do this on your own. Good luck."
"G'luck Roach," Kyrie says briefly before the ear piece cuts back into the static.
Jogging forward, Roach sees a fence with a dog behind it. It looks like it wants to chew his face off so he dispatches it without thinking twice. He hears am animal like growl and is forcefully shoved to the ground.
"Where'd the Hell you'd come from you sneaky little bastard," Roach snarls, twisting the unfortunate dog's neck, breaking it.
That's one thing you have to worry about in places like this; they probably use the dog for food, not to keep as a pet. That means, you approach the little bugger with a treat, you'll probably get your hand bitten off as a thank you.
Tangos burst through the door on his right and more are flooding to the roof tops.
Screw this, run for it.
Roach feels a strong urge to jump in the air and scream yahoo as loud as he can when he enters the upper levels of the Favelas but figuring that would get him compromised more than he already is, he shoves it down.
That's when a certain bastard decided to break through a boarded up window and actually managed to hit him.
Thank fucking God for bullet proof vests. Several other a-holes seem to be coming out of doors and windows and dark corners, Roach notices with a sigh of exasperation as he shoots another tango before diving into a building and knifing someone.
He throws a grenade out with a practiced hand and hears the explosion and the screams that follow.
Good, he actually hit someone or someones. Either way, it works for him.
Throwing a flash bang out he hears some yelps of surprise and decides to stick his head out from the door way to see his escape route and about four tangos holding their eyes like babies.
Taking out the four militia soldiers he continues his spin up into the upper Favelas. Up the ramp, there was a camper, as Roach likes to call them, hiding in a window, aiming at the ramp, waiting for him to walk into his line of sight.
To bad the ramp was curved and Roach saw him before he saw Roach.
He was keeping an eye out for more tangos because he could hear them, he just couldn't see them when his ear piece scared the living crap out of him, "This is their terrain Roach," Kyrie says, "Be careful. Watch your six and the roof tops. There are a lot of twisty, turny alleyways."
The ear piece biting back into the static, Roach continues his misadventure into the Favelas.
Barely avoiding more bullets that locals had shot at him, his ear piece come to life for the third time today, "Watch the roof tops! We've had a few close calls with RPGS and machine guns!"
That was Mactavish, not Kyrie.
Close calls, his subconscious said, worming the word to the front of his brain.
That made his stomach tighten for a reason he couldn't grasp. Mactavish gave him updates and crap all the time. Why was he so worried? He said close calls; not deaths.
"Roach we're taking heavy fire from the militia. We're still tracking Rojas. He ran into that building, Ghost, you see him?"
"Roger that," Ghost responds quickly, "heading out to the right carrying a black duffel bag."
"Well that outta slow him down," Kyrie says, bullets heard in the background.
"Roach, we'll keep him from doubling back. Keep moving to intercept. Go! Go!" Mactavish shouts.
Roach fires more and more until he has to reload. He he just wants this day to be over with, damnit.
"Keep going. Rojas is still heading towards your side of the Favela," Mactavish commands, "Don't let the militia pin you down for to long. Use your flash bangs on them!"
Taking Mactavish's advice, Roach uses up the rest of his flash bangs and grenades, taking out a ton of militia that we're other wise pinning him down.
"Dammit! I lost sight of him again," Mactavish and Kyrie shout in unison.
"Ghost, Talk to me," Mactavish orders once again.
"I'm onto him! He's trying to double back between the alleys below!"
"Roger that, stay on him!"
Firing more bullets out of his ACR, Roach takes down another three tangos. He was deathly quiet and didn't feel like taking his concentration off not getting killed to form words. It's not like he had a visual of him or anything. Hell, he didn't even know where he was.
"I have a visual of Rojas," Ghost bellows.
Well, I'll be damned.
"He's cutting through to the markets!"
"Roger that! Me and Kyrie will head to the rooftops and try to cut him off on the right. He's gonna have no choice but to head west!"
"Damn! I'm taking a lot of fire from the militia. I don't think I can track him through the markets," Ghost informs, static breaking into his lines, "I'm gonna to have to find another way around!"
"Roach, I've spotted Rojas," Kyrie cuts in, "He's making a run for it! He's headed your way!"
"Don't shoot him," Mactavish orders quickly, "We need him alive and unharmed!"
Roach desperately tried to pick up the pace, this was there last chance, Meat and Royce did not die just so they could fail.
"Roach, we're going to cut him off on the summit, keep pushing him that way! Go! Go!"
Jeez, Mactavish sure likes to make sure they're moving their asses by screaming go, go, all the time, doesn't he?
"Ghost, he's going for that Motorcycle," Kyrie bellows in return.
"We've got eyes on Rojas," Mactavish replies, "Wait. Shit, he's headed back towards you!"
"Keep pushing him up the hill, Roach," Kyrie commands, "Don't let him double back!"
"Nice," Mactavish compliments, "he's breaking to the right again. Roach, if you see him don't shoot, I need him unharmed!"
"Guys, I'm going to the right," Kyrie informs.
"He's gonna get away," the two superiors shout.
"No, he's not."
The glass from a second story building Roach is in front of breaks and Rojas jumps through. He crashes into the car below and just about as the sergeant is about to grab him and bag him the sergeant has already jumped through the window and is holding her pistol to his face.
"Told you guys he ain't going no where," Kyrie smiles.
Ghost chuckles while Roach stands there out of breath with the most hilarious look adorning his face.
"Frontrunner, this is bravo six; we've got the package. I repeat, we've got the package," Mactavish calmly informs the team through his radio.
Ghost, reaching up to prepare the team for dust off, speaks in the same calm voice that Mactavish had on, "Get ready for dust off; send the chopper. Yeah, go to coordinates-"
Ghost pauses before answering back in an agitated voice, "Bollocks, the skies are clear."
Kyrie lets Mactavish hold Rojas while she gets off and catches her breath.
"Send the chopper now" Ghost orders, clearly ready to shoot whoever's on the other line.
Kyrie raises her eyebrow first at Ghost then at Roach. Strolling over and brushing the dirt off her gear, she asks, "What's with that? You usually have this much trouble asking for a dust off?"
"Yes," he answers, trying to cover up the worry in his voice by coughing. The word worry was an understatement. He was absolutely agonized to think they wouldn't get a simple chopper to bring them back home.
"You're a horrible liar, Roach."
AN: I remember! I just realized that every single chapter I have has at least one flash back!
Roach: Why is that? Do you think are readers are dumb?
No, it's just-
Roach: Hear that? She thinks your dumb!
ugh, why didn't I kill you again?
Roach: Cuz you love me
God damn your fictional hotness
Roach: How do you know what I look like. The creators didn't even give me a face because the technological gifted people would find a way to zoom out of my body and see it. It's all on you tube.
True, but your all muscular. And much more Bad ass then Edward Cullen.
Roach: Who?
Exactly.
Thanks for reviewing and such and remember, I DON'T OWN ANY THING MODERN WARFARE 2 RELATED!
Once again, sorry for the late update! And no, I'm not gonna make up excuses about life. It's still summer until August 29th. After that, you guys might never see me again. That's when I go to...MIDDLE SCHOOL!
I'm scared to death.
